


Dirty Jeans

by Jennybel75



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennybel75/pseuds/Jennybel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Greg go to Sydney for Mardi Gras!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to the wonderful thefieldmouse for her super speedy beta service and the ever magnificent catlover2x - she rocketh muchly! Also, there's a much longer A/N at the end of the story with a few explanitary notes and links. 
> 
> Written in 2005, just moving stuff over from FFNet

Nick shifted slightly and groaned as a sunbeam shining through the gap in the curtains fell on his face. Groggily he opened his eyes and looked at the bedside clock. 1pm? Damn it.

“G, wake up man. It’s 1 o’clock.”

Greg just mumbled incoherently and rolled over. Nick grabbed his shoulder, shaking him gently and tried again. “C’mon Greg, wake up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

“Ok, ok. Geeze Nick.”

Greg finally opened his dark brown eyes, yawning and stretching and looked at Nick. “Hi sexy.”

“Hi sexy yourself,” said Nick jumping out of the bed and throwing open the curtains. 

“Greg, tell me again how you managed to get a room with such a good view of the harbour,” asked Nick staring out the window at the sparkling blue water, fixed white sails and coat-hanger shaped bridge in the distance.

Greg moved to join him at the window, snaking his arms around Nick’s waist and resting his chin in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. “Well, Nick, when you’ve been planning a holiday for over six months like I have, you make sure you get the best. After all, it’s not every day we travel to Sydney now is it?”

“Well, no,” admitted Nick.

“And you know that I love to make a presentation and how much I like to see you happy. So, I just wanted everything to be perfect,” whispered Greg softly into Nick’s ear.

Nick slowly turned around in Greg’s arms, leaning in slightly and murmured against his lips, “everything _is_ just perfect when you’re here G.” 

 

It was still sunny and warm when they left the hotel a few hours later. All plans of doing any sightseeing before the parade had fallen by the wayside when Greg had decided that what they really needed to get over their jetlag was sex on the hotel balcony. “It’s outdoor exercise, Nicky,” was the last thing Nick remembered hearing before getting lost in the heat and passion with Greg.

Now Greg was bouncing along the street a few feet in front of Nick, admonishing him for his slow pace. “C’mon Nick, we’ll be late, man, and we can’t miss the start of the parade.”

Nick shook his head and replied in an amused tone, “You didn’t seem so concerned about that an hour ago when you were screaming my name loud enough for half the city to hear.” At that Greg turned back and started walking seductively towards Nick fixing him with a sly little grin. “Well, yes, if you’re going to do things like that to me, of course I’ll scream,” he said grabbing Nick’s hand, “but that was then and this is now and we’re going to be late, so move it.” And with that he set off back up the street almost dragging Nick along with him.

Twenty minutes and a lot of hills later Greg and Nick had found themselves a prime position right at the starting point for the Mardi Gras parade. Greg was busy explaining that the parade is the penultimate event of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras and that they’d been really luck to get a spot right at the start of it all. “So, like, the parade starts off with the Dykes on Bikes and then there’s all these floats from Gay and Lesbian groups, community organisations and that kind of thing,” Greg said excitedly to Nick, “I’ve been told to keep a look out for the marching boys – they’re meant to be super hot!”

“Oh, and you don’t get enough super hot already?” Nick asked with the hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, yes, of course. How could I not when I’ve got you, my own Texas hot chili?” Greg conceded, “But, hey, looking never hurt anyone.”

Nick smiled and shook his head at Greg’s enthusiasm and energy. He often wondered where his lover got it from. Was it just because he was younger? Nick couldn’t ever remember being like that when he was 30. No, he’d been dependable, serious and firmly in the closet. Shaking his head again he decided that it was just part of what made Greg Greg and he thanked God for it.

The parade had started and Greg was busy offering a running commentary on the proceedings, “See, over there, that’s the Premier of NSW and his cabinet. They always march to show their support. And look, on that float – Dominatrix Dorothy.”

Nick’s gaze followed to where Greg was pointing at a buxom girl with pig tails dressed in a blue gingham corset, box-pleated PVC mini and cherry-red Doc Martins. She was holding a leash, at the end of which was another girl, who Nick assumed was one very happy Toto.

Float after float continued to trundle down Oxford St for the next hour, with Greg continuing his observations and occasionally amazing Nick with the amount of research he had done on the whole festival. Of course Nick had heard of it, who in the community hadn’t, but even when Greg had suggested they make the trip out for it, he had never expected him to have researched the entire history of the event. 

A sudden hiss of breath from Nick made Greg stop his commentary in its tracks and look intently at the older man. His deep brown eyes had darkened somehow and a slight flush had bloomed under his tan, a flush that to Greg only had one meaning.

“So, seen something that’s taken your fancy then, have you?” Greg asked with a slight leer in his voice.

“Um, what, no!” Came Nick’s stammered reply.

“Sure you have. You’ve got the look that you usually only get when I’m naked and keeping you fully clothed. Spill.”

“Well, um, there, on that float,” Nick said pointing to the final float of the parade, “it looks like that guy from the Marilyn Manson video. You know the one where he’s wearing the leather mini and making out with Manson and stuff.” Nick was now looking acutely embarrassed.

“Oh, you mean that Eric guy from the sAint video? I didn’t know you’d been watching my DVDs Nicky,” replied Greg, a smirk now firmly plastered across his fine features. 

“I haven’t, well, only a couple of times. I mean, it was on MTV once when I was up later and flipping channels.”

“And you decided to watch it? I thought you hated that sort of music?” Nick could see that Greg was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

“I do hate it, but with the sex and all it kinda draws you in and then this Eric guy turns up and in that outfit. What did you expect me to do?” said Nick, his tone getting more defensive by the second.

“Whoa, chill man. So you find that guy attractive huh? Hmmm…. I’ve been told I kind of look like him you know.” Greg now had a thoughtful look on his face which made Nick wonder what the hell he was up to now. 

Greg shook his head and seemed to snap back to the present. The parade had now finished, moving past them, and was on its way down Oxford St. The crowd was dispersing too, some towards home, others towards the various surrounding pubs and clubs. Greg grabbed Nick’s arm again and started pulling him back down to the other end of the street. “C’mon Nicky, no time to waste. A guy was telling me about this bar where most people’ll end up. It’s called Bourbon and Beefsteak and is the most rock n’ roll joint in town.”

Nick stopped where he stood and said, “A bar? Is that really a good idea G? I mean, we’re both still jetlagged and the big festival gala ball’s on tomorrow night. Don’t you want to be right for that?”

“Sure.” Replied Greg, “Look, we won’t stay out too late. Just have a couple a’ beers and talk to some people. Come on, you won’t regret it.”

 

Nick wished that the person who was running the carnival ride inside his head would stop it or at least turn down the music. He groaned and rolled over, reaching his arm out to find Greg. But instead of a hot, blonde CSI all he encountered was cool sheets. Moaning slightly, he opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. Bad move. He slumped back down into his pillows and looked at the clock. 9 am. Hell, they’d only got in at 6, so where was Greg after only three hours sleep?

The bathroom door opened and he got his answer. Out walked Greg, clad only in a white towel which seemed to be doing its best to slip off his slim hips. Nick half smiled, any other day he would have helped the towel on its way, but the see-saw seemed to have turned into a merry-go-round and it was all he could do to lie there and hope the world would stop spinning.

“Nick, man, you’re awake,” said Greg somewhat surprised, “I didn’t think you’d surface for another few hours at least.”

“Believe me, I _wish_ I was still asleep,” grumbled Nick in response. “How is it that you’re up and about and so disgustingly chipper?”

Greg laughed and moved over to the suitcase looking for clothes, “Well, you see Nicky, _I_ stopped after three beers, and _I_ didn’t challenge the Dykes on Bikes to a shot drinking contest.”

“Oh God no.”

“Oh God yes. It was hilarious.” Responded Greg, “They drank you under the table.”

Nick just moaned and closed his eyes again, listening to the sounds of Greg ferreting around for something to wear.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. “G, Um, I seem to remember something. Um, did I……”

“What Nicky?” Asked Greg turning around to face him grinning mischievously, “Did you then decided to teach the whole place how to country line dance by getting up on the bar and using Dominatrix Dorothy as your partner? Why, yes, yes you did.”

Nick groaned and wished that the ground would just open up and swallow him right there and then. Line dancing? Oh God.

“Don’t worry man, everyone was as drunk as you, they’ll never remember it. Fuck.” Greg’s tone of voice changed suddenly, no longer amused at Nick’s expense.

“What G?” asked Nick, wondering what could possibly be worse than trying to teach a bunch of Aussies to line dance. 

“Fuckshitdamn. Um. Remember how I decided to polish my boots when we got in this morning?”

“No.”

“Well I did, ‘cos they were scuffed. So when I’d finished I put the polish back in the case. Only, I mustn’t have put the cap back on it properly. I’m sorry man, but it’s leaked all over your clothes for tonight. I’m so sorry, but they’re all dirty. Sorry.” Greg sounded close to tears. 

Nick struggled to get out of bed and moved over to where Greg was standing staring into the suitcase. He was right, black boot polish had spilled all over his jeans and white shirt, turning them both a dirty greyish black colour.

“Damn it Greg, what I am ‘sposed to do now?” Nick asked as he sank back down on the bed. “I feel like shit. There’s no way I can go looking for something else.”

Greg sat down next to Nick, silent for a few moments as if considering his options. “Well, look Nick, my mistake, I’ll fix it. I was going to head out anyway to pick up a couple of things for myself, so I’ll just get you some new stuff too. Not a problem – I know what size you are. Just leave it to me.” He bobbed back up and started throwing his clothes on at a rapid rate, “Look, I’ll only be gone for a few hours. You just take a couple of ibuprofen and go back to sleep. Nothing to worry about.” And with that he dropped a quick kiss on the top of Nick’s head and headed out the door.

As Nick got back into bed, he wondered if he really did have anything to worry about.

 

The next thing Nick knew, the bedside clock read 12 and his head hurt a little less. He was wondering what it was that woke him this time when he heard the click of the closet door. Opening his eyes further he suppressed a grin as he saw Greg sneaking about the room quietly, obviously trying not to wake him.

“Hey Greg. Get all your stuff done?” asked Nick, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. 

Greg turned with a start. “Oh hey Nick. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up man. Yeah, I got everything done.”

Nick sat up in bed, pleased that the world wasn’t spinning this time. He looked around the room and noted the bags Greg had dumped on the chair. Frowning slightly he said, “I thought you said you were going clothes shopping?”

“And I did.”

“But, one of the bags says “Gallery” on. Did you go art shopping as well?” Nick could feel his headache start to come back.

“No. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But you’ll just have to wait ‘til tonight to find out. Anyway, enough of that. I have the perfect hangover cure,” responded Greg, looking very pleased with himself. “C’mon rise and shine, light of my life. We’ve got places to go and things to do.”

“What things?” asked Nick, not at all sure his system could take any sort of “cure” Greg had planned.

“Sun, surf and sand my friend. So grab your board shorts, sunscreen and towel and let’s go.”

“The beach G?” asked Nick incredulously, “that’s your hangover cure?”

“Yep. Tried and true California style. I’m sure it’ll work just as well here though and think of all those sexy surfers you’ll get to perve on.” Said Greg, busily moving around the room throwing various bits and pieces into his backpack. “Chop, chop, we haven’t got all day, you know.”

“All right, just give me ten minutes for a quick shower, okay?” Nick sighed, still not at all sure that a trip to the beach was what he needed. 

“Ten minutes tops and if you’re not out and ready to go by then,” said Greg, the leer perfectly evident in his voice, “I’ll come in and drag you out in whatever you may or may not be wearing.”

 

A couple of hours later, lying on the golden sand of Bondi Beach, Nick was surprised at just how much better he was feeling. He’d had a quick swim in the surf at Greg’s insistence, but he’d never really been much for swimming, so after assuring Greg that, yes, this was the most fun he’d ever had, he’d gone back to his towel content to just lie back and people watch.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes because when he next opened his eyes he saw Greg back out in the water teaching what looked like about ten kids to body surf. He sat up to get a better look, laughing when Greg took a big wave particularly badly and wiped out in a spectacular fashion.

Greg jumped back up grinning and begged off the kids telling them that they had obviously surpassed the master and it was time for him to retire.

Nick’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched Greg make his way out of the water and back up the beach. His lovers’ blonde hair was now plastered to his head, ruining the careful style of that morning. Droplets of water clung to his lightly defined pecs and abs, reflecting the sunlight like diamonds and he was certainly catching more than his fair share of admiring glances from the other beach-goers. Once again Nick could not believe how lucky he was that this beautiful, intelligent, funny and caring man was his. All his, and that he loved Nick as much as Nick loved him.

Greg flopped down on his towel next to Nick and looked at him curiously, “What’s that look for?”

“What look?”

“That look. You know the big doe-eyed, gooey-expressional look,” responded Greg. 

“It’s because you’re sexy and beautiful and I love you and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you” Nick admitted, noting with pleasure the slight blush creeping across Greg’s face. It was a very rare event indeed to make Greg blush. He leaned in, placing his hand against Greg’s still damp chest and kissed him softly and deeply. Greg tasted like salt and sunscreen and was kissing him back for all he was worth. Nick was tempted to lose himself in the moment and just stay here for the rest of eternity but he knew that he had to break away, that they had to head back to the hotel to get ready for the party that night.

Sighing softly he broke the kiss and pulled away, pausing for a moment to look into Greg’s eyes. He shivered at the depth of the emotion he saw in them.

“C’mon lover, we need to get a move on if we’re going to be ready in time.”

Grumbling that they still had plenty of time, Greg jumped to his feet and in one swift move had stuffed all his gear back into his pack. “Right, ready to go, oh-fearless-leader,” he said, “but I’m kinda surprised Nick, I didn’t think you were all that keen to go after the way you were feeling this morning.”

Nick continued walking back down the beach, throwing Greg an arch look over his shoulder as he said “I’m feeling much better now and you’ve got me very intrigued as to what was in those bags you brought back this morning.”

“Well, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” murmured Greg to himself as he set off down the beach after Nick.

 

They stopped for a bite of dinner on their way back to the hotel, arriving there after 7pm. 

“Okay Nick, I’ll take first shower,” said Greg “And sort out our outfits for tonight. I’ll lay yours out in the bathroom for you now.” 

Nick could see that the suit bag also had the same name on it as the other bag he’d seen that morning. Gallery Serpentine. Huh? Clothes at an art gallery? Then he was distracted by the other bag Greg was holding: House of Fetish? What the…?

“Greg man, hold up – I thought you went clothes shopping?” said Nick anxiously.

“And that’s exactly what I did” replied Greg, all innocence.

“Gallery Serpentine, House of Fetish? Exactly what sort of clothes did you get G?” asked Nick his voice rising slightly.

“Wait and see lover, just contain your soul in patience and all will be revealed.” And with that Greg disappeared into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he was back out again, hair perfectly styled and clad only in a towel. “I’ve laid out your outfit, but no peeking until you’ve had your shower. I’ll know if you do!” Greg grinned as he said this. “Go on then, I’ve got to get ready myself.”

Nick was very tempted to unzip suit-bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door and have a look. He decided against it though; hell, it was always fun to go along with Greg’s games. 

After Nick had showered and towelled off he decided that it was time to see exactly what Greg had got him. He hoped that it wasn’t anything too outrageous - Greg did that sort of thing so much better than he did. He took hold of the bag and slowly undid the zip. Holy crap! Red, and not just red, but blood red brocade. What was Greg playing at he wondered, as he carefully lifted the most exquisite frock coat out of the bag. He tried it on. It was a perfect fit. Shrugging the coat off he hung it back up and went back to the bag to see what else was there. 

No shirt? The only other thing in the bag was shiny and black. He grabbed what turned out to be a pair of PVC pants. PVC? Damn it! Now Nick knew exactly what had been in the House of Fetish bag. He yanked open the bathroom door, surprising Greg right outside, wearing green eye shadow and black liquid eyeliner. The accents made his eyes appear even larger than normal and the green shadow made them appear almost hazel in colour. 

Nick took half a step back. “Greg, what the hell are you doing buying me PVC and a frock coat? And where the hell is my shirt?” he asked.

“Nu-uh, no shirt for you, Nicky boy, just the coat and pants. It’s a fancy dress party after all and I thought that you’d look much better as a slightly twisted Edwardian dandy than the Mr Texas Everyman you were going to go as. Oh.” Greg shut his mouth quickly as if he had said something he shouldn’t have.

Nick’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Oh really, and that wouldn’t have anything to do with the boot polish you _accidentally_ got all over my clothes now would it?”

“Um, well, yes and no. Um, mostly yes.” Greg stuttered. “You see, it’s a fancy dress party and, um, you didn’t bring a costume, so I thought I’d help out with that.”

“You could have just asked you know,” said Nick, grinning.

“Yes, I thought about that, but I figured that you wouldn’t be into it, so I thought if I gave you no option…..,” Greg responded, his voice trailing off, “Anyway, I made a good choice right? That red is so your colour and well, the PVC? Ass heaven if you ask me.” Greg’s grin was now firmly back in place.

“Okay, you’re right. Just don’t surprise me again tonight,” replied Nick. “But what about a shirt? The coat will get too hot you know.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s why I said no shirt for you. You’re going to wear that coat, unbuttoned and you’re going to dance and yes, you will get hot.” Said Greg leaning in closer “And you’ll have to take it off. Then you’ll be hot and sweaty and half naked, clad only in those ass hugging pants. Everyone will want you, but they can only look. Only I can touch and you know I will, don’t you Nicky?” Greg whispered, nibbling Nick’s earlobe.

Nick swallowed and nodded, he seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech. “So,” continued Greg, “Why don’t you get your lovely Texan bod back into that bathroom, get dressed and then we’ll go.”

Five minutes later when Nick came back out of the bathroom Greg knew that he had made the right decision. So, who cared if a few clothes got dirty? He had one seriously hot man and he was going to show him off.

“Ready to go Nick?” he asked.

“Sure G, but are you?” Nick replied looking a little confused. Greg was now wearing a floor length black overcoat and boots, but Nick still hadn’t seen his costume and was hoping that he actually did have one on under the coat.

“Yep, ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.” 

 

The club was already packed when they got there. Everywhere Greg looked there were people in costume – over there a very happy looking Franknfurter and Rocky and just in front of them were Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintstone, looking not at all like they were missing Barney and Fred.

Greg pushed through the crowd onto the dance floor, urging Nick to follow him. The DJ was playing some sort of Eurohouse beat at a volume that made it almost impossible to hear anything else.

They danced for a while, Nick getting hotter and hotter in his coat. He wondered how Greg was bearing it in his. Finally he decided enough was enough and took his coat off, earning an appreciative leer from Greg and a chorus of wolf whistles from his fellow dancers.

Greg motioned for his coat, leaning over and yelling something in his ear that sounded like, “Keep dancing. I’ll just take this to the coat check.” Nick nodded and watched as Greg danced off into the crowd.

Caught up in the euphoria of the crowd and all the admiring looks he was getting, it was a good ten minutes before Nick realised that he didn’t know where Greg was. He was just about to head off into the crowd the way Greg had gone when he felt a hand on his shoulder and a voice in his ear said, “Miss me?” 

Nick spun around and gasped. It was Greg, but he had obviously checked his coat too. Now he was standing there wearing a sleeveless top which laced up the sides to a high neck. It appeared to have Latin text printed all over it but Nick wasn’t sure what it said. He had a leather cuff on one wrist and a chain on the other. But what really did for Nick was the skirt. For fuck’s sake, he was wearing a leather mini skirt.

Greg did a little pirouette and asked, “You like?”

Nick nodded dumbly, hoping like hell that no-one would notice the sudden, very uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants.

Greg looked at Nick and smiled. His little outfit had had exactly the effect he had hoped it would, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, Nick was going to be very hot and bothered in a few moments. Reaching over he grabbed Nick’s hand and led him off the dance floor over to the quietest and darkest corner of the club he’d been able to find. As Nick followed he noticed Greg give a high sign to the DJ who waved back.

Greg pushed Nick down onto the leather bench and sat down next to him. Smiling, he leaned over and said, “What’s my name?”

Nick barely had time to register the words and music that the DJ was now playing before Greg moved in close and started to trace the line from his collarbone to jaw with his tongue. Nick closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure as Greg was now alternately kissing, sucking and nipping at his neck. He again heard the whispered words in his ear, “What’s my name?” before Greg moved to straddle him, skirt riding up to the tops of his thighs.

Greg looked down at Nick whose eyes were closed; face flushed, throat working, and grinned. Oh yes, definitely the right decision, he thought as he dipped his head ‘round to the other side of Nick’s neck, licking and tasting the sweat there. Moving his mouth upwards he started rocking his hips back and forth over the now unmistakeable evidence of the Texan’s arousal.

“Oh God, Oh-,” Nick groaned as Greg started sucking on his earlobe, his hips still rocking back and forth. The friction was driving him out of his mind, “Please,” he begged. Once again came the whispered, “What’s my name?” as Greg ran his hands down Nick’s chest and then up his back.

Greg grabbed Nick’s hands and drew them around the back of his body, hips still rocking, and placed them up under his skirt.

Nick’s eyes flew open. God. He wasn’t wearing anything under that skirt. Nick’s breath was becoming shallower now and his own hips were jerking upwards in response to Greg’s thrusts. He tried to think coherently. They were in a club, with hundreds of other people. They should stop, “People can see,” he panted, “Should leave, finish elsewhere.”

He looked up into Greg’s eyes. So dark now they were almost black, holding his gaze. Greg wasn’t stopping; he was looking down at Nick with an almost frightening intensity. He leaned in and whispered, “What’s my name?”

“Greg, oh God, Greg” Nick cried as the explosion of ecstasy hit him. Greg’s gaze never wavered from Nick’s face as he gave in to his own pleasure. Panting, he dropped his head to Nick’s shoulder, showering kisses along his collarbone. “Love you,” he mumbled into Nick’s neck as he moved himself off his lap.

“Love you too.” Nick responded planting his own kiss firmly on Greg’s lips, “Just one thing G, what am I meant to do now?”

“Well, that’s the great thing about PVC lover – it’s hoseable, so it doesn’t matter if it gets….. dirty.” Greg grinned as he dragged Nick off to the bathroom to clean up.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N. The Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras is a month long festival held from February to March each year. More information on it can be found [here](http://www.mardigras.org.au/).
> 
> Bourbon and Beefstake is a real bar, and as Greg says- it is the most rock n’ roll bar in Sydney. You’re not anyone until you’ve been kicked out of there at least once! 
> 
> House of Fetish and Gallery Serpentine are both real shops in Sydney. House of Fetish deals with, yep, fetish and clubwear. Gallery Serpentine tends more towards the goth and period costume end of things, making the most beautiful corsets, coats, skirts etc. Pics of Nick’s coat can be found [here](http://www.galleryserpentine.com.au/ProductDetails.aspx?productID=93). (it’s the frock coat) and Greg’s priest top [here](http://www.galleryserpentine.com.au/ProductDetails.aspx?productID=673).
> 
> The whispered "what's my name" is actually taken from the Marilyn Manson song sAint, it's part of the chorus.


End file.
